Made With Love
by Arlecchina-Rosa
Summary: Romano is in one of his bad moods again, but his brother has the perfect plan to make him feel better: Pasta! Special pasta, made with love and magic, just like America taught him. Will it work? Or will Romano's tsundere attitude win out over Veneziano's enthusiasm? One-shot companion fic for The Hero's Formula, gift for animefairi. No Yaoi, just family fluff.


**Hey everybody! First off, before we get started, this is a companion fic to The Hero's Formula, a work in progress of mine that is about halfway done at this point. I suppose you don't have to read it in order to understand this one, but reading at least the first chapter of The Hero's Formula will mean that this one-shot makes a whole lot more sense.  
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**This short little fic was written for two reasons: (1) to fill in what happened to Italy after America told him how to make food with love, and (2) as a gift for animefairi, who wanted to know what happened. What happens in this will be vaguely important to the plot of the Hero's Formula at some point in that story, so I figured, it's a win-win.**

**Also, just FYI, this probably counts as the fluffiest stuff I have ever written. It's also probably as cheery as I'm going to get, so don't get to thinking that this is a trend or anything. I do like happy endings, just not unbearably sappy ones. I hope that this doesn't qualify as fitting into that category, but, I will warn you, it's pure fluff. Not romance though. Jeez, guys, they're brothers, how does _that_ work? It's all just familial bonding, which I personally find much more entertaining than romance anyway.  
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**Enjoy!  
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"~Ve... Germany, Germany, Germany is a really, really nice place," Veneziano Italia sang, as he stirred the noodles in the big cooking pot.

"Will you SHUT UP about the stupid potato lover already!"

"~Ve... But fratello, I have to sing, or it won't work!"

Romano stormed into the kitchen, glaring at his brother. What the heck was Veneziano going on about now?

"Or _what_ won't work?"

"The pasta! I'm-a making it for Germany with love!"

"You're WHAT?!"

"~Ve, America told me how to put love into the food I make, so I decided I'd make some yummy pasta for Doitsu! Do you want to help, fratello!"

"I don't want anything to do with that potato lover! All I hear from you anymore, is, '_Germany this, Germany that!_' Every single day! I'm sick of hearing you talk about him all the time!"

"B-but, fratello..."

"No! Listen to me, Veneziano! I can't take this anymore! I'm your brother, we're supposed to be close, but the only thing you ever talk to me about is _Germany_! Why do you like him so much better than me, huh? What did the potato jerk ever do for you? What makes you like him and not me?!"

There was no reply. Italy simply stared at the kitchen tiles, not saying a word. Romano felt a bitter sense of triumph. He was right, and Veneziano had no defenses, no excuses.

"I'm right, aren't I? You don't care about me at all! Well, I don't care about you either! If everyone thinks _you're_ so special, you can just be Italy all by yourself!"

He turned to storm out, but Veneziano's hand caught the back of Romano's jacket just in time. Romano turned around to demand his brother leave him alone, but stopped when he saw his brother was crying.

"F-fratello... I'm-a so sorry!" Veneziano wailed. "I do love you! I love you so much! Please don't leave meeeee!"

"...You're pathetic."

"~Ve... I know..." Veneziano wiped the tears from his eyes, but they kept coming, rolling down his cheeks.

Romano frowned. He hadn't expected Veneziano to agree so readily.

"P-please, fratello!" Veneziano cried. "Don't leave me! You're the best fratello in the whole wide world!"

"Hmph." Romano turned his back on his brother, folding his arms across his chest.

"~Ve... I mean it! Germany and I are BFFs, but you're my _brother_! That's special!"

Romano didn't move. He had to stand his ground. He absolutely refused to listen to this nonsense. Veneziano didn't _really_ like him. No one did.

After a long while, Veneziano spoke. "~Ve! I have an idea to cheer you up, fratello!"

"...Don't bother."

Veneziano's footsteps pattered across the tiles. Romano could hear Veneziano singing to himself as he worked, though he couldn't make out the words. Eventually, Romano's curiosity got the better of him, and he sneaked a glance over his shoulder. Veneziano was cooking again, stirring the pasta and the sauce...

"What are you doing _now_?"

"~Ve... I'm-a making you some pasta, fratello!"

"Oh, no. You can't just make some pasta and expect everything to be all better. It doesn't work that way with me, Veneziano, you should know that by now! It may work on the German potato lover, but I know better!"

"But, _fratello_, it's made with love! Love makes everything taste good!"

"Oh, for the love of... That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, Veneziano."

"~Ve... Mr. America and big brother Spain told me all about it!"

Ah, yes. Now it made sense. Those two were idealistic as they came, and equally idiotic.

"Well, fratello, the burger fanatic and the tomato jerk are _dead wrong_. Love isn't real! It's not an ingredient you can put in pasta. Love doesn't mean anything. Someone can tell you they love you one day, then abandon you the next!"

"~Ve... I won't abandon you, fratello..."

"...Then you're an idiot, just like Spain and America."

Romano sat down at the table, thoroughly pleased with himself. As long as he could keep telling himself that the world hated him, it was incredibly easy to hate the world right back. He sat there for a long time, brooding over those he hated.

He thought about idiotic Spain, and his idiot friends, France and Prussia. He thought about annoying American burger lover, who filled impressionable little Feliciano's head with nonsense. He thought about the piano-playing jerk, Austria, who had given him away to Spain without a second thought. He thought about England, who defaced the name of good food everywhere, and was undeniably crazy with all his claiming to talk to fairies. Most of all, though, Romano thought about the stupid, conceited, know-it-all potato lover, Germany. Romano hated Germany with a passion that even he didn't fully understand. Something about the man made him want to go and punch a wall. Or, better yet, punch the potato lover himself.

"~Ve! Hug time!"

_...What the heck?_

Veneziano was in the process of giving his brother an enthusiastic hug. Romano tried to squirm free, but Veneziano refused to let go.

"Chigi! Veneziano, cut it out!"

"~Ve... Not until you smile!"

"I'm not going to smile, idiot! Leave me alone!"

"If you smile, you get pasta..." His voice was playful, and sweet. There was a plate of steaming pasta on the table, Romano could smell it... He grimaced. _Must... Resist..._

"I-I don't want any pasta!" It didn't come out quite as confident as he'd wanted it to, but it would have to do.

"~Ve... Not even with tomato sauce?"

_Drat. He knows my weakness._

"I... Well... No! Of course not!"

Italy frowned, but there was still a sparkle lingering in his eyes. "~Ve... Okay... I'll just give it to Germany tomorrow, then..."

_Drat. He knows my other weakness._

"Oh, no you don't! You are not giving this pasta to the potato lover! He wouldn't even appreciate it properly! Just for that ridiculous suggestion, I'm going to... I'm going to eat this pasta myself!" He took the fork of the table and began twirling the pasta, then shoving it into his mouth. He glared daggers at Veneziano, who simply smiled back at him.

"~Ve... I love you, fratello! ...You're really smart, and good at lots of things! You always say what you think, even if it's not always very nice, and you're really good at cooking, especially food with tomatoes!"

_Where... where did _that _come from?_

"Wh't the h'ck 're yow taulk'ng 'bout, fr'tello?" Romano mumbled with his mouth full.

"~Ve, remember that one time you asked me to say something nice about you, but I couldn't think of anything, and you got mad? I felt really bad, so I've been working on a list of all the things I like about you!" He pulled a roll of drawing paper off of the counter and handed it to Romano. Romano swallowed his bite of pasta, then took the paper hesitantly.

"I-I was gonna give it to you on-a your birthday, but... you can have it now."

Romano began to unroll the paper, and realized that it was long. Really long.

"D-did you write on all of it?" He asked.

"Yep! Sorry if it's a little messy, but sometimes, I would be painting, or making pasta, and then think of something for the list, so I would go and write it down right away!"

Veneziano was right, the paper was dotted with tomato sauce stains, and splatters of paint, and who knew what else. Romano instantly recognized Veneziano's messy handwriting:

_**For My Big Brother Romano Italy**_

_** Reasons I Love Him Even More Than Pasta:**_

Romano suddenly felt like he might faint. His hand trembled slightly, causing the paper to shake. Curse these blasted emotions... Why was he feeling like this?!

_**Reason Numero Uno. He's smart and knows lots about everything.**_

_** Reason Numero Due. He's really good at playing football, but he lets me win most of the time.**_

_** Reason Numero Tre. He lets me sleep in his room when there's a thunderstorm.**_

_** Reason Numero Quattro. He's great at painting, even though he won't admit it.**_

_** Reason Numero Cinque. I can trust him with important things, and he'll always listen.**_

_** Reason Numero Sei. He stands up for me if someone hurts me.**_

_** Reason Numero Sette...**_

Romano's eyes clouded with unbidden tears at that point, till he couldn't see the page anymore.

"Oh, God... Veneziano... Wh-why?"

"~Ve... Are you okay, fratello?"

"Y-yes... I mean no..." He sighed. "...I-I'm not sure anymore..." He looked his brother in the eyes, searching for some sarcasm, some final joke, _anything_ but the sincerity that glowed brightly in Veneziano's amber eyes. He found nothing.

"...W-why, fratello? Why are you doing this to me?!" Romano couldn't take it. His brother shouldn't be acting this nice to him! All this 'niceness' was making him emotional, and he hated feeling emotions! (Unless the emotion in question happened to be either anger or annoyance, in which case he had absolutely no problem both feeling _and_ expressing it).

Veneziano's expression clouded. "~Ve, I'm sorry, fratello! What did I do? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry! Don't be sad, I love you!"

...Oh, Veneziano. He was so patient, so innocent, so kind. He was the perfect little brother, and it would take a whole _library _to write down exactly why. Romano wasn't worthy to have someone like Veneziano as a brother.

"V-Veneziano... Grazie... I-I don't _deserve_ such kind words from you..."

"~Ve? Then, you are crying happy tears, not sad ones?"

Romano sighed defeatedly, making a half-hearted attempt at rolling his eyes. "...S-si, fratello... Happy tears..."

"~Ve! It worked! My pasta worked! The love in it made fratello happy!"

Veneziano hugged his brother again, chattering blissfully about magic, and pasta, and singing. Romano rolled his eyes, but he couldn't quite suppress the smile that had somehow worked its way onto his face.

_Oh, Veneziano, you idiot... It wasn't the stupid pasta that made me happy..._

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**Well? How did I do? Was it too sweet for you?  
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**Review telling me what you think of my attempt at writing the Italy bros, okay?  
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**Signing off, **

**Arlechinna Rosa  
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